


Sacrifices 1

by evieplease



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Photographer's Assistant, Physical Abuse, Red Carpet, Verbal Abuse, abusive boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa meets Tom on the Red Carpet, mayhem ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW. Abuse and mild violence.

I had been thrilled to land the paid internship at Rolling Stone. Gods, what a huge break for me, I had thought. I just hadn’t considered that the break might come at the cost of bruises and humiliation. My current job was mostly glorified gopher and photography equipment pack mule for an independent photographer.  
Unfortunately, I had been hired by the photographer at the beginning of the summer, not the magazine, and the internship job doesn’t start until fall. So I was stuck with this asshole for at least the next couple of months. My boss, Jase, is a phenomenal photographer, but he’s also an abusive prick who gets off on tripping me, knocking me over, and occasionally pinching me hard enough to leave bruises. But I need this job in the worst way, and I can’t risk getting a reputation as a whiny little bitch when I’m just starting to break into the industry. So I grit my teeth and pay my dues. But I’m also keeping a log and photos of his abuse, just in case.

Jase and I are at some press Red Carpet event for some movie or other. I don’t really pay attention to what, or who, anymore, knowing that Jase will take advantage of any lapse in concentration to cause me some mischief. I just concentrate on making sure that Jase has all the cameras, lenses, filters and crap ready to hand when he wants them. And coffee or water, or booze as required. Jase is old school with all this equipment, rather than just going with digital, but his results are amazing and I’ve learned some incredible techniques working for him. Not that he’d stoop to actually teaching me anything, but I keep my eyes open and pick things up.

Standing in the jostling crowd of photogs, I’m trying to change out lens and filter on his new Nikon, juggling three pieces of equipment with two hands when someone cannons into me, and the lens and filter go flying out of my hands. I cried out as the equipment left my grip, knowing that they will be smashed on the hard concrete floor.

“You stupid cunt! Can’t you do anything right?! You’re so fucking useless! Pick that shit up!” Jase is whispering fiercely in my ear. I know that as soon as I bend over to reach for the fallen equipment Jase will find a way to knock me down. I just have to keep my hands out of his range or he’ll step on them.

Sure enough, I stoop to pick up the broken filter and Jase’s knee smashes into my hip with a blast of pain. I don’t know how he does it, but he always manages to find a way to do this to me without anyone around us noticing. Fucker. I stumble and pitch forward. We’re right at the rope line, and his shove lands me right on the fucking Red Carpet on top of a pair of very long, very shiny black dress shoes. I’m surprised I didn’t take the poor fucker out at the knees, but whoever manages a scrambling step or two, coming to rest spread-legged over me, but not actually stepping on me. I curl into a ball, in hopes of making a smaller obstacle. It would just fucking make my day complete to knock some dick-weed celebrity on his ass in the middle of the fucking Red Carpet in front of all the photographers in the fucking world. Shit. I groaned, knowing that there will be hell to pay.

A hand reaches down into my line of sight, and long fingers wrap around my upper arm, pulling me to a stand. I’d just as soon stay down there, thanks.  
“Christ, sorry! Are you alright, love? Did I get you?” A lovely cultured posh voice enquires. I’m staring at a blinding white, fitted, very fitted, expanse of a tuxedo shirt, flanked by the inky lapels of a black velvety tux jacket. I’m absolutely frozen. Another hand comes up and clutches my other arm.

“Darling…?” 

I tear my eyes away from the lovely onyx shirt fasteners on his chest and my eyes dazedly travel upward, very far upward from my 160 cm, until I meet the concerned blue eyes of…fuck! Tom Hiddleston. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And, oh yeah…fuck.

I know my mouth is hanging open like the village idiot that Jase says I am. I can’t fucking push a single word out of my mouth. I’m so mortified. I can feel my eyes well up with tears of embarrassment. I see him looking at my mouth and his brow contract in consternation.

“You’re bleeding, love. Let’s get you out of this crush…” He looked around quickly for an exit, wrapped his long arm around my waist, and pulled me along the, oh god, Red Fucking Carpet to the nearest exit, accompanied by shouts from the press and general screaming by the fans. He hauls me through two doorways, my feet stumbling and my lip throbbing, feeling something hot and wet trickling down my chin and neck. At last we’re in a relatively quiet, private lobby, and he steers me to a chair, pushing me gently down to sit, and kneeling down on one knee in front of me.

“Now. Let’s just see what we have here.” he says gently, reaching into his breast pocket for a snow white square of linen. His other hand tilts my chin up, and he begins to mop at me, touching the handkerchief delicately to my split lip. 

“It’s not too bad, darling. But you’ll probably have a fat lip…”

I snorted. That’s the least of my problems right now. "Par for the course.“ I shrugged. "Jase will make it worse before the night is done. God, you really shouldn’t have left with me! Seriously, in front of all those photographers? I’m really sorry. Really. Shit! Ow!”

“Shh. Keep still a moment.” He pressed the cloth to my lip and held it there, watching my mouth carefully, biting his own lower lip, his brow furrowed. "I’m not worried about a few photos.“

"Well, you fucking should be! No doubt we’ll end on the cover of some snotty tabloid, under the headline ‘Tom Hiddleston punches out photographer’s assistant!’ God. Seriously, you’re meant to be out there right now posing for photos, chatting up the press, and making the fan girls wet! You should go!”

He chuckled. "You know, darling, the more you talk, the more your lip bleeds. So, hush and let me take care of you.“

I huff and try to hold still for him. But god, I really, really want out of here, away from him. He’s so goddamn beautiful as he kneels on one knee in front of me. And sweet Jesus, he smells so good, like a sun-lit pine forest and mint. The mint is definitely coming from his mouth, his breath fanning over my face at intervals. And that gorgeously fit tux over that lithe body… Fuck.

Glancing back up at his eyes I see his gaze drop from my mouth and slide lower to survey the rest of me. I try not to smirk. No joy there, boyo, I think. I’m wearing a ratty old baggy blue jumper over an equally disreputable pair of jeans. I’ve learned that Jase will attempt to ruin anything nice that I wear to these events, and I can’t afford the dry cleaning and repair bills. At least I don’t have to wear killer heels with my ratty outfit. I was probably the only woman out there whose feet didn’t hurt. Always find the silver lining, right?

Since Tom’s looking, though, I’m going to take my only chance ever to look back. I run my eyes quickly down over the rest of him, but find my gaze arrested at his trousers, which are fitted so tightly that I’m amazed that he can actually bend over in them, never mind kneel without splitting them. And it’s pretty fucking clear at the inside of the leg that he’s not kneeling on that he dresses left. Far left. And that he’s not wearing underpants, the silk-wool fabric of his tuxedo trousers is so fine and so close that I’d have been able to tell if he was circumcised. Crap. I yank my eyes back to his bow tie and stare determinedly there. His neck…three little freckles…nope, not going there either. Oh great and little gods, will this never end? He lifts the cloth off my lip to inspect the results of the pressure he’s been putting on my lip, and sets the cloth back to my lip as he firms his grip on my chin, holding my face steady.

"Not quite there, yet, it’s still bleeding a bit. We need to put some ice on this, darling…here, hold this, keep the pressure on.” He stands, looking around, and strides through a further doorway.

Oh thank god he’s gone. My shoulders slump in relief. My torment is over, and I can go back to my real life, my shabby flat, and my asshole boss. I ignore the tiny voice whimpering for 'more’. I take a deep breath and stand, intending to slip quietly away, but I sway dizzily for a moment. By the time I get my bearings, Tom is back at my side. He slips an arm around me.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling? Sit down. Let’s get you sorted.” And he put me back in the chair. I sighed. This dude is clearly too used to getting his own way, and the fastest way outta here is going to be to let him do his thing. I resign myself, and grip the seat of my chair tightly.  
“I’m Tom, by the way. What’s your name, love?” He plucked his handkerchief out of my hand and neatly wrapped it around an ice cube from the glass in his hand, grasping my chin again and applying the ice to my lip.

“Melissa.”

“That’s a pretty name. It suits you.” he says absently.

“Oh yes? In what way?” I ask innocently. I batt my eyelashes at him, and grin. His eyes fly up to mine.

“Busted for a meaningless social nicety, eh?” he says sheepishly, with a grin of his own.

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t resist yanking on your chain. You’re kinda pushy aren’t you?” My grin widened. So did his.

“Yes, I am. Now stop smiling or that lip won’t stop bleeding and we’ll be here all night, right?”

“Oh, Christ! Your movie! You’ll be missing it!” I panic a little bit.

He shrugged. "No worries, love. I’ve seen it before.“ 

I choked and laughed. "I guess you have.”

“You’re a good excuse to get out of sitting through it again. It’s not a bad bargain, is it? You get your lip tended to, and I miss seeing a film I’ve seen too many times. And I get to hold a pretty girls’ face in my hands!” I gape at him. It takes me a moment to formulate a response.

“…That’s some flirt you’ve got there. Have you had it looked at? It might be terminal…”

“Ehehehe, cheeky, too.” He checked under the cloth again. I ran my tongue over my freezing lip, tasting copper.

“There, that’s better.” He folded his handkerchief into the glass of melting ice. "Come on, I could do with a drink.“ He stood, looking down at me expectantly, holding his hand out to help me stand.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not going back out there! Not dressed like this and with blood all over me! I’m just going to crawl meeping back under my rock…”

“Oh, no you don’t! Melissa please let me buy you a drink, it’s the least I could do after trampling all over you like an oaf!"

"Tom, you’re not…you didn’t trample… Oh hell. You’re not going to let me talk you out of it are you? Pushy bastard.” I shake my head at him.

“Once again, yes I am. Glad we got that cleared up. Let’s go.” He snagged my hand and began to tow me out of the room.

I planted my feet. "I’m seriously not going back out there in this state, Tom. I’ll have that drink with you if you insist, but not here. Jase is already going to freak out on my ass, I’m not giving him more ammunition.“

Tom glanced at me. "Alright.” he said, and changed direction, pulling his cell out of his pocket and speaking quietly into it, giving direction to someone on the other end to meet him behind the theatre, as he pulled me after him through various grey utilitarian hallways. We stepped out into the cool night air just as a limo pulled up. He reached for the door handle and bundled me into the backseat.

“Ok, then. Not what I expected. Where are we going?” I asked as he slid in beside me.

“Just somewhere we can talk and you don’t have to feel self-conscious about being underdressed. Now, who is Jase?”

“My asshole boss.” I rub at the headache that forms between my eyebrows everytime I think about him. "God, I’m going to take so much shit from him for tonight’s events.“

"I hardly see how anything can be blamed on you! Surely he won’t harass you for being knocked down!”

I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. The limo pulls in around the side entrance at the Grandview Hotel. Terrific. Today just gets better and better.  
“Tom, having a drink in a fancy fucking hotel bar with you in a tux, and me in my old jeans really isn’t much better…”

“Relax, darling. We’ll just nip upstairs and I’ll do a quick change, then we’ll head somewhere less stuffy.” He handed me out of the limo like goddamn Prince Charming. Pity he’s not getting Cinderella. The hip that Jase had smashed into with his knee was sore and beginning to stiffen up. I was trying not to limp, but I could see by Toms’ concerned expression that I wasn’t hiding it from him.

He places a gentlemanly hand on my lower back and guides me to the door, reaching and opening it for me. I gave him a quick glance up and down, and smirked.  
“Your mother did a good job on you. You should thank her for me.”

He grinned at me as he escorted me into a side lobby where elevators waited. We got on, and Tom pushed the button for the tenth floor. "I’ll be sure to tell her you said so. I’m sure she’ll be highly gratified. Not sure she’ll believe me, mind you. Perhaps I should get you to sign an affidavit… 'Mrs. Hiddleston’s Little Tommy has lovely manners.’ “

I choked on a laugh. "Little Tommy, huh?” I craned my head back as far as it would go, looking up at him to make my point.

He waggled a long finger at me. "Now, no tall jokes, or I’ll be forced to stoop to short jokes.“

I groaned at his pun and clutched my head. "Words, words, words!”

Tom paused a beat. "Ah, but there’s a method to my madness…“

"Ok then. Note to self, don’t fence with the Shakespearean Actor… Did you ever do Hamlet?” I asked, curiously.

“No, I’ve missed out, other than a few scenes I did as a student at RADA. I’m getting on a bit for the title role now.” He steered us out of the elevator and down the hall, stopping to fish out his key card and let us into his suite.

“Is this the part where I complement you on your dewy youthful complexion and tell you you can’t be a day over Hamlet, grandad?” I teased him.

“Cheeky brat. Have a seat wherever you like. I’ll just go change.” He waved at various seating arrangements, and moved off through a door, presumably the bedroom. He left the door open, raising his voice to continue our conversation. "Now, about your boss. Is he really going to give you trouble about being knocked down?“

I wandered over and stood in front of a full length mirror, pulling up my jumper, and pulling down the waistband of my jeans over my hip to survey the damage. Yep, it’s going to be a big fucking bruise. And right above that is the purple and yellow bruise Jase had gifted me with three days ago, a vicious pinch for spilling his coffee. No wonder it hurts. Shit.

"Yeah, well, considering he’s the fucker who pushed me…” I hear a noise and look up in the mirror to find Tom standing behind me, wearing a soft grey v-neck jumper and a pair of jeans, scuffed boots in his hand, staring at my hip grimly. Shit! That was a fast change! I yank down my jumper, but he drops his boots with a thump, and pulls it back up, tracing his fingers gently over my bruises.

“You’re hurt. No wonder you were limping. This looks fresh, but that one is definitely a few days old…” His brow wrinkled. "Melissa, is someone hurting you?“  
Dammit. A tear spills down my cheek, and I turn my face away. I curse my propensity for crying with every emotion, once again. Happy, sad, embarrassed, angry, it doesn’t matter, they’re all accompanied by involuntary tears. I fucking don’t want to have this conversation, and especially not with Tom Fucking Hiddleston. I made my bargain with the devil, already. He grasps my shoulders and gently turns me to face him. "Tell me.” he says, sternly. I just shake my head and swipe at my tears.

“The price of fame.” I try to laugh shakily.

“What do you mean? What price? What fame?” He squeezes my shoulder and stoops down to look in my face, catching my gaze. "Please tell me, Melissa.“ He demanded again. "Why protect him?”

“Protect him?! I’m not protecting him, I’m protecting myself!” I spit. Fucking clueless privileged white boy… I pull in a deep by calming breath. Ok, I’m not being fair to Tom. He’s only being nice. And I’ll never see him again, so what does it matter? "Sorry. It’s really not your problem, Tom, but thanks for asking.“  
He takes the hem of my jumper and lifts it again, higher, examining the rest of my belly, craning around to check my back too. I’m sure he can see some other bruises. I sigh.

"Jase likes to pinch me and knock me about a bit. I put up with it because I’m damned if I’m going to file a complaint against my first boss. I’ll never get a job in the industry again if I whinge about a few bumps and bruises…”

“Is that all he’s doing to you? He’s not…interfering with you, is he?” Tom asks hesitantly.

“Are you asking me if I’m sleeping with my boss? No. I’m not.” I shudder. "Just. Ewww.“

Tom blew out a breath. He took my hand and led me over to the sofa, sitting me down and moving to the mini-bar, picking out a couple of glasses, his hand hovering over the bottles on the tray. "What’s your poison?”

“Scotch?”

“Good choice.” He smiled over his shoulder as he cracked the seal and poured. "Ice?“

"You know that’s always a loaded question for scotch drinkers, right? If I say yes, you’ll know I’m a philistine.” He chuckled and added a cube of ice to both glasses. 

“You can live up to the snobs, or you can have it the way you like. Personally, I’m too old to worry about the snobs.” He crossed the room and handed me a glass. "Cheers.“

"Ta.” I took a sip, and let the cool spirit roll around my tongue. "I like the sensation of fire and ice…“

Tom sat on the sofa turned toward me, his knee drawn up, and his arm propped on the back of the sofa supporting his head in his hand. He sipped his drink, and casually swirled the ice cube around the glass, staring in it.

"Seriously, Melissa, why haven’t you filed a complaint? You do have legal recourse, you know.”

I took another swallow as I considered my answer. He seems sincere, maybe he deserves an honest answer rather than the flip one.

“Tom, you can’t be that naive. Women may have come a long way in the world, but there are consequences for complaining. I could lose my entire career before it even starts.”

“What exactly do you do?”

“I’m a photographer, and a damn good one. Jase may be a dick, but he’s got a phenomenal talent, and I’m learning some good shit. All I have to do is put up with his crap for another couple of months…”

“Dammit! You shouldn’t have to put up with abuse!”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the world from a woman’s perspective.” I took another swallow of my drink, feeling the scotch begin to swirl around my brain, relaxing me. "I’m sorry if that sounds cynical. It’s just… It is what it is….“

Tom swallowed the last of his drink and got up to pour another. He tipped the bottle at me, silently offering another. I finished off the last of mine and held my glass out. He brought the bottle over and tipped a measure into my glass, setting the bottle on the coffee table as he settled back into his seat in his previous pose. He has the longest feet… I sigh and take another sip. Tom Hiddleston’s naked feet are not my problem, no matter how much I’d like to bite them. We sat silently with our own thoughts, sipping at our glasses. Unfortunately, the scotch is steering my thoughts in a direction I have no business going. What is it about scotch that makes me…horny? Fucking hell.

Tom is regarding me thoughtfully. He seems to come to a decision, straightens and leans forward to set his glass on the table with a click. He turns toward me and his hand reaches out to grasp my chin again. "You’re very brave…” He pauses a moment, his eyes searching my face. Then he leans forward and kisses me softly, tracing his lips very gently over my mouth. I pretty much gave up breathing for the duration. How the fuck is this actually happening? If Jase hadn’t trained me to hate being pinched, I’d pinch myself to see if I’m hallucinating. Wait. Can you feel pinches while hallucinating? Fuck, who cares? Why am I thinking about that fucker while being kissed by the most gorgeous man in the history of ever??

Tom leans back a few centimeters and slowly licks his lips, looking into my eyes. "Sweet Melissa…“ he murmurs. His eyebrows go up in a question, the question.  
I lick my own lips, tasting the scotch on his warm breath, and him. I set my hand over his and sit back just a bit, not too far, while I consider all the crap that a relatively sober girl considers before deciding whether or not to sleep with a new guy… But Tom isn’t just a new guy. He really isn’t a possibility for anything other than a one night stand. My bits are jumping and cheering, do it, do eeet! My head, my heart, that’s a different matter. My head is all about practical matters; what about birth control? Is it a pity fuck? Does he do this a lot, and will it come back to bite me? Does he have condoms? What knickers am I wearing, and are they fit for viewing, however briefly? My heart, my heart is in my throat, choking me. He’s sweet. He’s caring. He’s not simply Tom Hiddleston, A-list actor anymore. He’s Tom. But he’s still Tom with a job and commitments that are going to carry him far away very soon. I’m unlikely to ever see him again, and is that going to be alright? Am I going to be one of *those* women? Will I be crushing on him for ages? Is it ok with me to be just another of his conquests? He’s a grown-ass man who does what he does, and looks the way he does, he’s bound to have left girls in every port, or at least many of them. But still. He’s a nice man.

Tom’s fingers are lightly caressing my jaw and cheek, watching and waiting patiently for me to decide. And really, that’s what makes me decide. His patience. I’m about 95% certain that if I said no, he’d carry on as if it had never come up, and we’d probably still be sitting here talking until dawn. Oh, what the hell.  
I smiled at him. "Carpe Diem…” I murmured, and leaned back in for another kiss. His lip quirked up and he whispered, "Just so.“ just before his lips touched mine. His hand slid around to the back of my neck, making tiny circles there and sending a shiver down my spine, as he firmed the kiss, being careful of my injury, his tongue sweeping over the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I parted my lips, and slid my own tongue out to lightly touch his, beginning our exploration of each other. My hands came to rest on his chest, my fingers stroking the softness of his jumper, the firmness of the chest underneath. He tastes so good, feels so good under my fingers and tongue. He hummed a little sound of enjoyment, his tongue stroking mine. Gently breaking the kiss, he leans back a little and strokes his fingers around to the front of my neck, following its curve, watching intently as his fingers trace over my collarbone. They slid lower, and his fingers feathered out over the outside of my breast, his thumb just brushing over my nipple. I shivered again, watching his focused attention on the curve of my breast. He palmed my breast with a warm hand and looked into my face again. I nodded slightly.

Tom took the glass out of my hand and set it next to his on the table, standing smoothly. I look up at him, and his hand comes up to gently push my hair behind my ear, stroking the curve, before reaching for my hand and helping me stand. He turned and drew me behind him as he walked us slowly into the bedroom, drawing us to a halt at the side of the bed. Dropping my hand, he wrapped both arms around me, tucking my head under his chin. I stepped in close to his body, touching him from chest to knee, my feet tucked between his, and wrapped my own arms around him. We stood that way for a moment or three, simply breathing each other in.

I heard him take a deep breath through his nose, and felt my hair move as he blew it out in a long sigh of contentment.

"Mmm, you smell wonderful, love. What’s that scent?” 

“Ummm,” I have to think. "Not wearing scent. My shampoo has orange blossom in…“

Leaning back in the circle of his arms, I looked up into his face.

"Condoms?” I ask quietly. "Yes.“ He answers equally quietly. He picks me up and sets me on the bed, laying me down gently on my back, giving me a soft kiss. "Back in a mo…” he whispers against my lips. He stands and walks into the bath, reappearing a moment later with a handful of condoms, setting them on the nightstand. I roll up onto my elbow and grin wickedly. "Ooohh, ambitious!”

He flicked a glance at the small pile of condoms and grinned back. "Don’t get your hopes up, darling, I’m not 16 anymore!“

"Yes, grandad.” I teased, scooting over to make room for him next to me. "How old are you? Just so I can make allowances, you understand…“ 

He prowled onto the bed, looming over me, and raising a dangerous eyebrow. "34. How old are *you*, little girl?” he growled.

“37. You can call me grandma.”  
Tom jerked his head back in astonishment, his mouth opening, then firming in disbelief. He shook his head. "You are not!“

I let it sit for a moment, enjoying his crogglement. "Naw. I’m 24.” I shrugged a shoulder. The look on his face was priceless, though.

“You’re definitely going to be paying for that, little girl.” He pounced on me, tickling up my ribs, making me laugh out loud. He looked down at me, his smile fading. "Now that’s a joyous sound. You should laugh more…“

"Give me a reason…” I whispered back, winding my arms around his neck, and raising my head to capture his mouth. "Come down here.“ I demanded, and he lowered his body next to mine, running his hand down the centre of my body, coming to rest just below my navel, as his tongue probed my mouth. His kisses trailed to my jaw, and down my neck, as his fingers played with the hem of my jumper, and slid under the edge. He leaned back and looked for my permission to go further.

"I’m definitely going to write that affidavit for your mother. I’ve already said yes, you don’t have to keep asking, you know. I’ll stop you if I need to. Let go, Tom… It’s all good.”

“Mmm. In that case, you’re wearing entirely too many clothes, love.” He reached for the hem of my jumper and peeled it up off me, tossing it off the bed. I glanced down at my sheer white bra, glad now, that all my work-a-day bras had been in the laundry. Tom ran his eyes over what he had uncovered, tracing a fingertip along the top edge of my bra in a barely there touch.

“Mmm, pretty.” he said, murmuring into my skin as his tongue followed the path of his finger. Shifting I reached under me and flipped the clasp open, leaving it to him to remove my bra when he was ready. I slid my hand under the hem of his jumper to the warm firm skin at his hip, skimming under the garment up the hard plane of his back, as I looked into his eyes. He lowered his gaze again and slid one bra strap down, and then the other, planting small kisses where the straps had left indentations at the tops of my shoulders. He pulled it the rest of the way from my body, and groaned’ nuzzling his nose into my breasts, pulling back and mouthing over one, his tongue darting out in small licks and nibbles. I don’t think I had ever had anyone taste me so before, like he was learning and committing to memory the exact texture and flavor of my skin, of me. He bit lightly down on one nipple and tugged a little.

“Ah, God, Tom!” My back arched helplessly, pushing me into his mouth. He licked the sweet sting away. I tugged at his jumper, wanting it off to feel his skin against mine, and he lifted, pulling it off. I bit lightly at his pectoral, and licked at his nipple as he gasped. He moved his knees between mine and sat back on his heels, reaching for the buttons of my jeans. There’s something so erotic about watching him discover my body. I’m not perfect by any means, but watching him makes me forget all of my imperfections. He tugged my jeans and knickers off and dropped them over the side of the bed.  
“Melissa.” he breathed, “You are an incitement to riot…” I writhed and moaned.

He smoothed his hands up my legs from my ankles, all, all the way up, and hovered briefly over my belly before running an open mouth kiss sweetly across my belly, his breath caressing my skin, to my hip. My hips are exquisitely sensitive, when he licked and brushed the scruff on his chin across the curve, I almost came up off the bed with a scream. "Tooooommmm" I whined, “please…” His hand fell to my mound, cupping me, his middle finger grazing my lips, petting, so gently parting them. The first touch of cool air across my clit makes me gasp and mewl in anticipation. He’s looking at me, avidly drinking my every sound, my every twitch and shiver. At last a long finger glides between my lips, my hips pushing up at him. 

He tsked at me. "So impatient, love.“

"Yessss, yes I am. Please.” I hissed back as I squirmed. "Touch me, Tom. Touch me, I want you.“ One long finger begins to circle and tease at my entrance. My whimpers escalate, and he takes mercy, sliding his finger into me, stroking slowly. I feel my internal muscles clench down on that invading finger, trying to draw it in. Tom sits back on his heels and watches as his finger slides out, circles my clit and dives back into me, adding a finger. His thumb begins to graze my clit, and his fingers search for that ridged spot inside, smiling slightly when I gasp at his discovery. My entire body is heating up, I feel a flush spreading over my chest, my hips picking up a rhythm of their own. I’m getting lost in my own head. Who is making those pitiful sounds? My head is thrown back to its full extent, and I realise from the vibrations I feel in my throat that they are mine. The realization makes me GROWL. Suddenly I feel hot breath on my thighs.

"Fuck, darling, you smell so… enticing. I have to taste you.” He bent and swiped his tongue over my lips, and kissed me there.  
I bolted upright and plunged both hands into his hair, not sure if I was going to grind into his face, or yank him up to my mouth. In the end, I did both, his tongue eagerly pushing into me, until I could take not a moment more, and I pulled him up by his hair to look at me, growling at him, “Fuck me now, Thomas! Don’t make me hurt you!”

With a growl of his own, he lurched up and captured my mouth as we both tore at his trousers, getting in each other’s way. I slapped at his hands. "Mine. Don’t touch!“ I reached into his trousers and curled my fingers around him, stroking him, learning the feel of him in my palm, so warm and hard and velvety. It was his turn to plead. "Melissa. Please, darling.”

Finally freeing him, I reached over and snatched a condom off the pile and tore it open with my teeth. He sat high enough to watch as I almost yanked it over him, groaning. 

“Now, right now!” I begged. He complied in the slowest most tortuous way possible, his hand cupping my cheek and looking deeply into my eyes. Slowly, he slid, working his way into my centre, exquisitely, tantalizingly, until he was entirely sheathed within me. I watched his eyes flutter shut as he ground into me. He took a deep breath through his nose and slowly let it out in a drawn out moan.

“So tight, Melissa, so warm and wet…” as he nestled there, just feeling. I was glad of the pause, adjusting to his length and breadth, before I couldn’t stand the immobility any longer. I rocked my pelvis back on his length, and snapped my hips forward onto him. Tom’s eyes flew open with a grunt, and he began to move within me, forcing my own high grunt out of me with every stroke, as I rose to meet him.

“Fuck yourself onto me, darling Melissa, fuck me hard…!” he gritted out. He forced his hand between our bodies and rode my clit, both of us crying out with each thrust.

“Fuck, Tom! Fuck, I’m going to cum…oh please, oh please, don’t stop, right…there! Fuck!” I screamed and came, bursting out of my skin into the stratosphere, higher and higher to apogee, rippling and convulsing around him, time stood still, and waited, waited… Until, at last I began to float to earth. But Tom wasn’t done with me yet, he thrust hard, harder, his voice a snarling shout as his rhythm stuttered, once, twice and once more, his back arching, driving into the deepest point of me as he released…everything. My hands on his arse, clutching, feeling the stuttering pulses of it, his muscles flexing, flexing, and finally stilling at his furthest reach for long moments. His head came to rest on my forehead, both of us breathing deeply of each other as we floated back to earth together. 

Tom started to roll to my side, as he began to slip out of me, but I clutched him tighter to me. "Just give me this… I love your weight on me…“ I murmured, my arms and legs still wrapped tightly around him.

Eventually I needed a full breath, and let him move. He rolled onto his back, but his hand still clutched mine as we settled, drifting on bliss and satiation.

"Mister Hiddleston, that was, hmm, better than a poke in the eye with a stick…” I murmured quietly. Tom’s laughter came out in a shout, and he rolled me over onto his body, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug, and placing a big, smacking noisy kiss on my neck.

“Oh my god, love! That was…you are…” he huffed out a laugh.

I reached up and prodded him easily on the arm. "Yeah… I like you too, Hiddleston.“ I snickered. "Not bad, grandad.”

A look crossed his face, his eyes narrowed, and that dangerous eyebrow came up. "Behave yourself, little girl, or I might have to put you over my knee…“

I laughed outright, deep down giggles. Tom’s eyes drifted down my body, an appreciative gleam there as he watched my breasts bounce with my chuckles, as I straddled his waist. I started to catch my breath, at last, and I saw his eyes travel lower, the smile sliding off his face. My breath catches when I realise he’s looking at my bruises. His brow furrows, his eyes narrow, he bites his lips. I can feel his hands clench at my sides. Suddenly his hands reach up and cup my face, drawing me down into a fierce kiss, and clasping me tightly to his breast, his face in my hair. He draws in a shaky breath, and the world stops spinning for the amount of time it takes for him to release that breath, and his arms to tighten around me. A bit later we both relax bonelessly into each other. I’m sprawled over his torso, one of his hands holding my bum. I set my fist in the centre of his chest and rested my chin on my fist, staring with a smile into his face. He looked smiling back.  
Eventually he stirred and said, "Alright, I’ll bite… What?” My grin got wider.

“Just wondering if I should ask you to feed me, or, you know…feed me.”

He scrambled upright, dumping me unceremoniously off his body. "Food! God, I’m famished! What do you fancy, darling?“ He leapt off the bed to snatch up the room service menu, and dove back to my side with it, snapping it open. He wiggled his shoulders to get comfortable next to me, putting our heads together over the menu. Enter 5yr old Tommy. I couldn’t help but laugh at his silly enthusiasm.

"Hmmm. Scrambled eggs? What do you think? Maybe some fruit.”

**

Tom padded up behind me as I put our used dishes on the room service cart, his arms folding around me, chin hooked over my shoulder, bending his head to set a warm kiss just there, under my jaw. He hummed a little, and nibbled at my neck and jaw as I hummed and tilted my head to give him better access. He began to sway us a bit from side to side, leaning in to nibble on the point of my shoulder.

"Stay? Darling, don’t go yet.” He whispers into my skin, running his lips up my neck and nuzzling into my hair. When I don’t respond, he stands straighter and turns me in the circle of his arms. One hand goes to my chin, the finger crooking and lifting my face to his for another soft kiss. And another.

Of course I don’t want to go. If I could make this night last forever, the two of us wrapped up in this timeless bubble, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I’m not foolish enough to try. We both have lives leading on separate paths. Wildly separate paths, my head informs me. Do I run now, or do I accept what he can give, now, while it’s on offer? Either way, it’s going to hurt a little bit. I contemplate him, my eyes running over a face that, as little time as we’ve had, is becoming quite dear. My hand reaches up to trace delicately over the too sharp cheekbone, over the laugh lines fanning from his eye, down his cheek to his lips as I thought.

“Is it wise?” I wondered aloud. "Probably not.“ He cups my cheek and looks into my eyes searchingly. "Stay and be not wise, with me?” Slowly I nod. He tucks my head under his chin and holds me, his hand stroking down my back.

“What do you have to do tomorrow?” he asks me quietly.

I snort a breath out of my nose. "I’m very busy. I have to do my laundry, and then I have to fold it and put it all away. Oh, and I have to water my plants…“ I can feel him laughing silently. "I might have time to varnish my toenails, if I can catch my breath after all that activity!”

“No work?” He squeezes a little harder.

“Oh! I forgot! Jase is going to be away for the entire week! Yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” I step back and do my little happy dance, grinning wildly at him. "Oooh! I get to play with my own camera! Fuck yes!“ 

Tom grabs my hand and twirls me around, dancing and laughing with me. He dances me right up against the side of the bed and I fall backward on it, my arms spread wide and giggling. Tom bends over me with a huge grin and begins to tickle me, as I shriek and laugh, scrambling backwards, nearly off the other side of the bed to get away. Tom stops tickling me when my head is hanging off the side of the bed, and begins to smooth his hands up and down my ribs, soothing the tickle away. I sigh happily, and my eyes fall shut. I love being petted.

Tom crawls up on the bed, and straddles my hips, and that’s exactly what he’s doing, petting me with long strokes, starting at my arched throat, and slowly sweeping down my body, over my breasts to my hips, one hand after the other. I can’t stop myself purring. Bliss.

"Like that, do you?” Tom murmurs. I purr louder. Tom rolls me into my belly, and repeats his stroking for a few moments. My mind is just drifting. He moves away, but he’s still petting me. I feel his lips sweetly kiss me, his tongue licking out on my skin. Lifting my head and glancing over my shoulder, I realise he’s kissing bruises as he runs his hands down my back, bum and thighs. He rolls me back, looking down at me with a gentle mouth, yet fierce eyes, and continues to seek out and kiss my bruises. I hadn’t really realised there were quite so many.

I reach up and run my hands down his chest and belly, watching my hands trace out his musculature. I look at his face to find he’s still focused on my bruises.  
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Haven’t you ever suffered for your art?“ I ask him. "Paid a price to further your career?”

“Of course, but not like this…” He gestured at my body, sitting back on his heels. "It’s different.“

"Well, your price is different than mine, but it’s the same thing, nonetheless.”

“It’s not! I don’t get slapped and kicked around! I don’t come away with marks and bruises and split lips!”

“Don’t you? You can’t tell me that there aren’t days when you come home absolutely shattered, and covered with marks from harness work, or a mistimed theatrical sword blow…”

“It’s still different. Nobody does those things to me with, with malice.”

“The result is still the same. The bruises don’t hurt any less because no one inflicted them on purpose, do they? And you still get up and go back to work with the people who hurt you again the next day, right?”

“But, but doesn’t it get under your skin? Make you angry, or sad, or, or frightened? ”

“Of course it does! It makes me fucking furious! And one day I fully intend to kick his balls into his throat for it. In the meantime,” I shrug,“I get through it, and I learn as much as I can, and I don’t fucking whinge. I’m not letting that fucker derail my career. And he can’t make me less than I am if I won’t let him. This is what my art costs me at the moment. It won’t last forever. And someday I’ll be in a position to say no, and make it stick. And I’ll be in a place where I can do something about helping move the world forward, so it doesn’t happen to other women.”

Tom’s arms wrap around me. "You’re a very brave girl.“ he murmured into my hair.

I push away from him, and lurch to a stand.

"I’m fucking not, you know. Women… Women in this man’s world do what we have to. I’m doing what’s necessary. I have other choices I could make. And if that’s pity I see in your eyes, you can go fuck yourself right along side *him*!” My work is different from yours, my choices, my sacrifices are different than yours, but I work just as hard as you do, my sacrifices are just as hard as yours, my choices just as difficult to make! And the rewards just as worthwhile as yours, and the sweeter for working hard! Don’t you dare pity me for them! I fucking deserve respect just as much as you do!“ I’m panting hard, my hands clenched at my sides, fingernails cutting into my palms. I know I look like a wild woman, and I don’t fucking care.

Tom stands and stalks over to me. For just an instant I quail. Then I take my courage in both hands and lift my chin. His arms come around me, and he growls. "You are a fucking gorgeous woman, and you make me so hard.” His hands slide into the hair at the back of my head and he tilts my face to his, staring down into my eyes. He kisses me hard, and spins us so that his back is to the bed, sitting and pulling me to straddle him, scooting us back on the bed.

“Ride me, Melissa. Take me just the way you want…”

Oh, fuck me, it’s Christmas! A lascivious grin breaks out on my face, and I can feel myself flooding in anticipation. Placing my hands on his chest I lean down and bite his lower lip, sucking and tugging on it. Loosing his lip, I whisper, “You sure about that, grandad?”

“God, yes! Fuck me Melissa, fuck me as hard as you want!” His hand shot up into my hair, pulling my ear to his lips as he growled warningly, “But we’re going to talk about this 'grandad’ business later…” I snickered. "Bring it!“ as he reached for a condom.

I ran my hands over his wide shoulders and down his arms, slowly, feeling the muscle and sinews so close under his skin, all the way, down to his hands, twining my fingers in his. I pull them up beside his head, pinning them, bracing myself to slide myself against his body. 

"I almost want to make you get dressed again, just so I can unwrap you myself.” I whisper into his ear. He groans and pushes up between my thighs. I’m getting more and more wet, sliding myself over his belly, leaving a trail of moisture, before pushing myself down his body, until I could feel his cock under my cleft. I tilted my head back, exposing my neck to him, leaning down to him. "Kiss me there. Mark me…“ And he does, latching his lips onto my throat, biting and sucking the tender skin, licking the sting away. Whatever marks Jase has left on me, this mark supersedes his. "Thank you.” I whisper quietly in his ear.

I know exactly what I want. I want him hot and hard inside me, and I want him right…now! Tilting my hips, I snag him, and slide him in fast, coming to a thumping halt against his pubic bone, hilted to the, well, hilt. I nearly screamed out loud. Tom roared. "Fuck!“

I slide myself slowly back, taking the time to savor the feel of him stretching me.. I moan with the sensation, and reaching the point where only his head was inside, I pause a moment and squeeze. Hard.

"Oh, God, love, if you do that again,” he gasps, “I’ll come!”

“Oh no, grandad, it ain’t that easy!” I growl at him. And I slam myself back onto him, sparks erupting from behind my clit as it collides with his pubic bone again. I repeat this rhythm over and over as he curses under me, until neither of us can stand any more tease. I take his hands and set them on my hips, lean down to his ear, and say, “Fucking make me fuck you. Make me make you come…”

Tom grunts, grasping my hips and forcing me back and forth on him. Faster and faster on him, rocking into me.

“Fucking come on me! Christ, I’m going,” he pants, “to come… Come with me…fuck! Come with me…Melissa!

Tom says my name and my core detonates. I feel my back arch and my breath stop, as the rising wave engulfs me, carrying me higher, higher, until the wave breaks, and I crash through apogee. Thrumming and contracting, squeezing him, clutching him, twitching, as I ride the slowing waves. Tom is pounding up into me, pushing me along when he erupts, his feet flat on the bed, pushing his hips up into me, his head thrown back. I can feel him pulsing, his legs trembling with the force of his orgasm, before he collapses. I fall onto his chest, and lie there, utterly spent, both of us gasping and panting hard.

Tom’s hand wavers up over me and flops onto my back gracelessly. "I stand corrected, darling. You can call me grandad all you like…”


	2. Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mayhem on the Red Carpet leads to an encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Abusive boss.

I woke to the elusive scent of orange blossom, and the warm weight of a soft woman curled around me. My lips formed a smile before I'd even opened my eyes. Melissa. I don't often wake this way, with a woman in my bed. Especially not when I'm on the road. I don't 'do' fangirls, that way leads to trouble. Not that I hadn't been tempted a time or two. I've had some amazing offers. Beautiful girls, beautiful women, a few beautiful men. But no. The one thing that they all have in common is that they all want 'Tom Hiddleston, Darling of the Fangirls'. And that bloke is not me. Besides, who am I to blow the fairy dust off their fantasy?

But Melissa. Melissa slipped past my guard before I'd even realised. Well, if I'm honest, I dragged her in under my guard, on a wild impulse that came at me out of the blue.

When she'd first pitched headfirst onto my feet out there on the Red Carpet, I'd thought she was just another mad fangirl, panting to meet her celebrity crush. But once she stood before me, I could see that she didn't have the look. As she swayed on her feet dazedly, I saw that she'd been a victim of the press scrum, a press pass around her neck. 

Then I noticed the blood running down her chin. I'm ashamed to say that she instantly became the best excuse I'd ever had to skip out on at least some of a routine boring evening. I acted instantly on the impulse, seizing on my chance, and hauled the poor girl away. But when she'd looked up at me with those wide brown eyes fringed with long dark lashes and a blush pinking her cheeks, I recognised the first sign of danger. No messing about with fangirls, idiot, I'd admonished myself.

But then she'd tried so hard to send me off, back to the Red Carpet. That crack about being out to make the fangirls wet! Christ, I nearly did myself an injury trying not to laugh. She'd actually tried to slip off when I'd gone in search of ice for her lip. No clinging fangirl, she. 

And there it is, the lethal cocktail. Unconventionally beautiful in casual dress, wounded and brave, cheeky teasing humor, independent and determined not to be a victim, utterly unimpressed with my celebrity, fierce, and oh god, the taste of her...

She smiled sleepily up at me, her face still soft with dreams. She stretched and snuggled her face into my neck, taking a deep breath and letting out a yawn with a small laugh,

"Good morning," she murmured into my neck. "Did you sleep well?" 

I stretched. "Oh yes, darling, better than I have for ages..." I could feel her smile against my neck.

"There's something to be said for good sex before sleep..." She lifted her head and stared into my eyes, her lips quirking. "Don't you agree, Grandad?"

I growled at her and pulled her closer, pressing my hand against her back and leaning down to kiss her soft mouth.

She pulled back before my lips touched hers, covering her mouth with her hand. "Morning breath..." I smiled and freed a hand to reach for the bottle of water on the nightstand, nudging her to lift her head and accept the water. She smiled and took a drink, swishing it around her mouth. I did the same.

"Smart man..."

After rinsing my own mouth and setting the bottle down, I leaned back down to collect my kiss, her lips soft and sweet.

"I'm so very glad you're here, Melissa." I murmured sincerely, caressing the side of her face, touching her hair. She stayed with me...

Her answer was to drift her hand down the length of my body to my cock, hard with the morning. I groaned at her touch, and she smiled, turning in my arms and pushing back against me in invitation. I rolled onto my side, wrapping both arms securely around her and nuzzled my nose behind her ear, licking lightly at her earlobe.

My cock hardened further against her backside as I pushed up against her. She responded with a lazy "Mmm." and lifted her top leg back, draping it over my thigh, her foot caressing the back of my knee. I slid home with no further thought, reveling in her heat and soft wetness.

"Oh yes, Tom. Please..." She pushed back against me. I kissed and nibbled her neck as I thrust gently into her in a slow morning rhythm, the two of us rocking together, her voice murmuring encouragement.

I rolled her completely over onto her belly, dragging my hands up her arms to her hands, entwining our fingers as I hovered over her, my weight on my elbows, pushing into her slowly, languidly, perfectly content to feel every warm centimeter of her sheathed on my cock. So good. So sweet. So right...

She pulled her knees up under her hips and rocked back onto me. 

"Oh god, yes, Melissa, you feel so good...so soft... so silky...so warm." I whispered into her hair. She clenched around me at my words. "Ah, god, so tight..."

She whimpers and pushes back harder. I slide her hands forward to the top of the mattress, curling them into the edge and leaving them there. I sat back on my heels without leaving her warmth, pulling her hips up, running my hand up her back, pressing down between her shoulder blades, chest on the bed, arse high.

My head falls back on my neck, my eyes closed. The feel of her...the smooth satiny slide of her, surrounding me, centering my entire consciousness on the square centimetres of my cock. So many nerve endings firing...

I drag my head up and force my eyes open to look down my body, seeking the connection between us. Christ. Watching the lush, smooth, flawless globes of her ass ripple as I thrust slowly into her heat, grinding myself into her belly, filling her. Watching my slow withdrawals, her moisture coating and slicking my cock, glistening along my length. Oh, and the sounds flowing from her. The small gasps and whimpers, moans and murmurs, an enticing vocal accompaniment to the pure physical sensation of her pussy wrapped around and clinging to every centimetre of me. So lost am I that my stroke is quickening, needing to drive myself into her harder, unconsciously vocalizing back at her, answering her groans and high pitched cries with my own deeper growls. My hands are dug into her hips, clutching her, lifting her, rocking her back onto me

Suddenly she lifts her ass higher and slams herself onto my cock, forcing a gravelly grunt out of me, setting off sparks behind my pubic bone. God, I can feel my balls tightening, I want so badly to drive myself mindlessly into her...but no, I deliberately slow myself, changing angle and rhythm to prolong our dance.

She whined and wriggled her hips, chasing her climax. "Ah, darling, there's no hurry. There is only this moment... Feel me ..." My hands slid around from my grip on her hips and dipped down over her mound, into her slick folds as I sat back on my heels. I opened her, letting the cool air kiss her heat, sensitizing the skin and nerves there. Gently in a barely there touch, I traced my fingertips up the center of her lips and circled her clit. Three or four passes this way and her whole body is climbing up the slope of my thighs.

Her gorgeous skin has flushed, radiating heat. I skim my finger over her clit and she cries out, her interior clenching over me. Leaning forward over her back, I wrap my arms beneath her breasts, hunching into her for a stroke, and then pulling her upright as I push up into her. Her vocalisations have turned into curses and imprecations.

"God, Tom...yes...oh please...fuck...yes... I'm going to...you're making me..." She pants. I run my other hand down her body and reach into her, wetting my fingers in her warm juices, and pull my fingers to her clit, setting the pace with my thrusts. Her cries and curses become louder and I found myself responding with my own vocal encouragements.

"Oh, yes, Melissa, that's right, lovely...fuck yourself onto me...beautiful girl, gorgeous girl...Christ...oh, yes, darling girl, sing!" As she wailed and arched against me, her hands flew from their grip around my wrists at her breast and folds, to my hair, her nails raking against the back of my neck, fingers frantically grasping at my hair, pulling my head back.

I lost myself utterly, completely, hurling myself into her as she rippled and clenched and vibrated against me, exploding into her, she pulling every molecule of my being out through my balls, my cock, pulling me into her, god, so...fucking... hard...!

I held her on my thighs, holding her body up against mine, my chin digging into her shoulder, both of us panting and shuddering through our aftermath. This girl...

I leaned us forward, allowing her to fall gently onto the bed, slipping out of her as I followed her down, kissing her through the hair at the back of her neck. I rolled aside and pulled her over onto me as I settled on my back. Her hands clutching at my biceps and squeaking a little in surprise. I chuckled. 

She nuzzled her nose into my chest. "Whew!" she blew out a gusting breath in a huff. "I thought I was supposed to be the young energetic one..!" She giggled and looked up at me, dark eyes brimming with laughter.

I huffed out my own laugh. "Grandad or not, the sun came up, and there’s a beautiful woman in my bed! Inspiration and motivation all in one, little girl.” I growled at her, setting off her laugh. Her laugh is such a joyous sound, begging me to laugh with her. She sat up on my belly, grinning and pushing her hair out of her face. So beautiful. So radiant.

Then my eyes fell on the yellowing bruise on her ribs and my gut clenched. Somehow, I resolve, I will find a way to make that bastard pay for what he has done to this precious woman. This girl…


End file.
